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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25568449">The Cry Of A Wolf</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/forest_roses/pseuds/forest_roses'>forest_roses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wolf 359 (Radio)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Always, But! it's not the normal kind so there's that at least, Camping, Intimacy, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Trans Daniel Jacobi, for fun, i love kepcobi and forests and wolves and nighttime, i wanted to experiment with a new style, it is unedited and was written in a little over an hour at 1 am, it was fun ngl, okay this is technically 2nd person POV, short jacobi rights!, so here have this, so i apologize for how strange it is</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:09:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25568449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/forest_roses/pseuds/forest_roses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two men, sitting next to the fire, their bags and two small blankets a few feet away. They aren't speaking; or, rather, they are, but nothing they say is truly worth being spoken. You know, watching them, that the two of them are part of something much bigger than them, and they are both pretending not to know what it is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daniel Jacobi &amp; Warren Kepler, Daniel Jacobi/Warren Kepler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Cry Of A Wolf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't really know. I can't be held accountable for my late night, Mountain Goats music fueled writing.</p><p>I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>There is a story hidden in every point in space. Some only speak of quiet existence, some are the burning birth of stars or fiery wars struck in sudden heat, and some are about creatures. The most complexly frustrating of these are those of humans. They have always preferred to pretend intelligence, rather than to actually possess it, and it leads in some moments to hatred, and some to love, and some to feelings not easily confined to one category.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>There is a story not unlike that here, in this place. If you listen closely, you will hear a whisper, among the wind in the trees and the shifting leaves and dirt on the ground, set apart from the noise of the animals moving in the near distance and the small stream a few paces from where you stand.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Close your eyes. Breathe in a breath of the memory surrounding you, let it bring you a moment of a life long past, where the remnants of the long dead fire in front of you still burns brightly and beings pretending to understand the flames murmur softly into the night.</b>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There are two men, sitting next to the fire, their bags and two small blankets a few feet away. They aren't speaking; or, rather, they are, but nothing they say is truly worth being spoken. You know, watching them, that the two of them are part of something much bigger than them, and they are both pretending not to know what it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the men, a shorter one with freckled skin and eyes of different colors, is staring at a stone just next to the flames, watching the way the fire licks at it and blackens the edge. He occasionally glances up at the other man, who watches him closely with a gaze that is neither fascinated nor amazed, but is close to in between. You know what the look means, and yet, the two men don't quite seem to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There comes a sudden noise from the distance, the cry of a wolf, and those accompanying it join in readily. This time, when the smaller man looks up at his companion, he is silent, and you realize he is holding in a breath only when he exhales, slowly and with a slight hitch as the other man leans toward him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time the two move apart, the wolves have given up howling at an unresponsive moon, and apart from the crackle of the fire, the gentle hooting of an owl, and the song of crickets, the clearing is silent. You can hear the men breathing, and the moment seems intimate in a way that makes you feel strange for watching. They are speaking, now, not with words, but with the way they know how to hold each other, the way they know how to breathe in unison; they speak with hands grasping the back of the other's head, with foreheads together and eyes half closed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A branch pops in the fire, and the shorter man draws away momentarily in response. The men breathe separately again now, and the taller one says something, in a tone too quiet for you to hear, though it draws a laugh out of his companion. You wait, knowing their story in this place is not over just yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, it is an amount of time before that intimacy shows again. This time, the fire is burning much lower, and the men have moved to their blankets. Without outwardly communicating their agreement, they push the blankets together, and move with practiced ease towards one another. The taller man puts an arm across the smaller man, and pulls him against him, rests his head against his hair. You think you catch a whispered "good night, Jacobi" and a "good night, sir" before they close their eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The story is nearing its end now, but you linger, wanting to know how these men left this place. At one point, while they both sleep and the stars glint in the dark sky, you see an animal watching them from the edge of the clearing, gauging their strength for a possible attack. You make a quiet sound in the back of your throat, wanting to scare it away and protect these strange strangers. The animal fades back into the trees, and you aren't certain if it was your own doing. Regardless, you feel a sense of pride in the small action.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the sun rises, the taller man wakes. He watches his companion for a few moments, and you see in his eyes the same emotion that was present when the wolves howled the previous night. He wakes the smaller man gently, and the two of them pack up their blankets and put out the fire, and leave the clearing. You are uncertain, but you think that as the memory fades, the taller man looks back over his shoulder, and meets your eyes.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>You can't be sure that he saw you, but just in case, once you are back in your own moment, you whisper a soft "good night" into the wind and the trees surrounding you, and place the scattered stones back around the charred remains of the old fire. Perhaps, somewhere close nearby, the two men are watching the story of this moment, your moment, your story, here. You smile at the trees, just in case, and hope it reaches them.</b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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